


A New Tradition

by soongtypeprincess



Series: South Downs Retirement [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Singing, Smut, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wingfic, Wings, just two dummies being dumb husbands in dumb love, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: Before Heaven became a vast skyscraper with sharp edges, clear walls, and judging glances, preening had been quite common among angels. It was a bonding ritual, but Aziraphale stopped caring about the tradition.





	A New Tradition

A first edition Chaucer slipped from the bed and miraculously closed and landed softly onto the bedroom floor. The bed shook with fervor as Crowley grasped at the wall.

Just moments ago, he had been teasing his husband, running light fingertips over the hem of his nightshirt and then underneath it to the soft flesh of his thigh.

Aziraphale had sighed as he looked up from his book and eyed him over his reading glasses. “Dear, please.”

“Please what?” Crowley purred.

“I’m trying to read.”

“Then read, angel.”

He gave his angel a sly grin, making him giggle. 

“You can’t _stand_ it when I’m not paying attention to you.” he said as he turned back to his book.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

Crowley slipped under the sheet and Aziraphale gasped when he felt his lips against his leg.

“Love,” he sighed, the grip on his book getting looser.

The lips on his leg parted and a long, warm tongue traveled over his skin as Crowley’s hand traveled further up his nightshirt.

Crowley was now bent over one of the pillows with his hands pressing against the wall as Aziraphale thrust into him.

He had a hand on Crowley’s hip while the other was gripping his hair.

“You are such a wicked little viper, aren’t you?” he scolded, his voice heavy. He let go of his hair and pressed his lips on the nape of his neck. “Naughty...naughty, naughty boy.”

“Ah, Aziraphale…” he sighed. “Yesss!”

“So vile...nasty tart…”

“Angel!”

He began to claw at the wall and Aziraphale kissed his shoulder.

"Please don't rip the new wallpaper.”

Aziraphale raised onto his knees, lifting Crowley with him.

Crowley leaned against the wall as Aziraphale pushed his cock inside him again.

“AH Fuck!” he yelled into the wallpaper. “Yesss, love! Oh--so fucking good!”

Aziraphale thrust harder.

“Angel! Jes---Ga---Oh, ssshit!!”

“This is what you wanted, dear. And you always get what you want, don’t you?”

He suddenly stopped when he felt a pang in his back.

“Ouch!”

Crowley looked over his shoulder at him. “You okay?”

Aziraphale grunted as he craned his head sideways to crack his neck. “Yes, I’m alright.”

He hummed as he nibbled his shoulder.

“I want you on your back. You always look so beautiful on your back.”

“Ah...angel, yesss…”

He pulled out of him and Crowley instantly lay on the bed. Aziraphale applied more lube onto his cock and entered him again.

Crowley gripped his husband’s arms. “Ohh...darling!"

“You love when I take you like this?”

“Yesss, please, more! Harder!”

Aziraphale moved one of Crowley’s legs onto his shoulder and leaned into him.

He moved faster as he pressed his lips into his neck. “Oh, you’re so tight around my cock. I could stay inside you all night.”

“Angel…”

“I _could_ fuck you all night. Fuck you until your voice grows hoarse. Fuck you until your mouth has no more words. Would you like that?"

Crowley’s hand shot into Aziraphale’s blonde curls and he clung to him. 

“Yesss, angel! Ahh, I’m yours, love! Do what you want to me!”

His cock was pressed against the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s belly and the added friction became too much.

“Ssshit! I’m coming!”

Crowley keened as his hot cum spilled out of him and onto his stomach. His body relaxed as he kissed his husband.

“I love you…” he sighed.

Aziraphale smiled. “I love you, too, dearest.”

He pulled out of him and swept his hand over him to miracle the mess away. He returned to his place on the bed and laid down as his book floated up from the floor and rested itself on the side table.

Crowley crawled over to Aziraphale and was welcomed by his arm curling around him as he rested his head on his chest.

He noticed he was still erect. “You didn’t finish?”

“No, dear, I’m a bit tired.”

“Angel."

Aziraphale laughed. “I’ll survive, Crowley. It’s perfectly alright.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He grinned and kissed his forehead.

Crowley’s eyelids began to droop, but he stirred when Aziraphale groaned as he shifted.

“Something wrong?” he whispered.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he replied. “My back feels stiff. It’s quite odd.”

Crowley rested his arm across Aziraphale’s stomach.

“Could be your wings.”

“No, it’s not that,” he huffed. 

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Crowley giggled and kissed his chest. 

“When’s the last time you got them out, eh?” he asked. “Really stretched them, let them breathe?”

Aziraphale brushed his fingers through Crowley’s short red hair. “I guess not since...you know, _that_ day.” 

“Angel!”

“They’re fine. I’m sure my back hurts because of all the naps we’ve been taking on the sofa.”

“It hurts, too?”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said your back was _stiff_. You didn’t say anything about pain.”

Aziraphale moved his arm from around him and turned away to settle on his side.

“Good night, dear,” he muttered as he miracled a pair of tartan pajama bottoms on himself.

Crowley tutted, but laid his head on his pillow and looked at his silhouette in the dim light. He reached out and caressed Aziraphale’s back, treading his fingertips lightly over his shoulder blades.

“My beautiful husband,” he whispered.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile into his pillow as Crowley moved closer and began to kiss his back.

“Been almost a year, you know?” Crowley added.

“Has it, now?” Aziraphale giggled. “Could have sworn we’ve been married longer.”

“It should have been longer.”

“Oh, darling.” He felt his hand slither over his waist and he clasped it. “When I think of all the moments that I---”

“Shh, none of that, angel.” 

He kissed one shoulder blade and then the other, sending a chill through Aziraphale.

“Dearest.”

“Get them out.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“When’s the last time we’ve preened?”

“Crowley, really?” Azirphale’s cheeks suddenly grew warm. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I don’t like you being in pain.” He kissed his back again. “Roll over, love. I’ll take care of you.”

Aziraphale turn to rest on his stomach and pushed the sheets down to his hips.

“The last time you said that was on our honeymoon,” he quipped.

Crowley smiled as he slid off the mattress and walked into the lavatory. “Our moonlit walk on the Seine...”

Aziraphale clutched his pillow as he listened to him opening a cabinet. “We stopped on a bridge,” he said, “and you turned to me and took my hand, pulled me close, and we kissed under the stars.” He giggled again. “There was a chill in the air that night, and I gave you my scarf.”

“It itched.”

“It was wool, dear.”

“You know I don’t like wool.”

“Your neck was so red when we got back to the hotel suite. You poor thing.”

Crowley turned off the light in the lavatory and approached the bed. “We had lobster and oysters for dinner.”

Aziraphale moaned at the memory of their room service. “Mmm, yes, love. And macarons and creme brulee for dessert.”

“It was a _full_ moon too, remember?” Crowley straddled his hips and opened the bottle in his hand.

Aziraphale smiled and bit his bottom lip. “I remember _very_ well. That was the night I discovered what a full moon can do to serpents like you.”

Crowley smiled, too. “We went all night, didn’t we?”

Aziraphale fully blushed now. “And slept into the next day.”

“It was after lunch when we woke up.”

“And you had ordered fresh crepes for me. Oh, Crowley, can we go to Paris again? For our anniversary?”

Crowley leaned down and kissed his cheek. “So I can continue spoiling you, is that it?”

“You do it so well, dear.”

They shared a giggle and then Crowley caressed his back. “Okay, angel. I’m ready when you are.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Nothing happened, so he tried again.

Still nothing.

“Any time, love,” Crowley said.

“Give me a moment,” Aziraphale said. “It’s been a while.”

He shut his eyes tight and concentrated.

“Let’s try this,” Crowley said as he placed his palm between his shoulder blades. “Worked last time.”

Aziraphale gasped. “Dear, please don’t!”

“Deep breath, angel. Exhale on three.”

“Crowley, are you sure?”

“One...two... _three!”_

He firmly pressed into Aziraphale’s back and was promptly hit in the face by a surge of white feathers and was tossed backwards to the foot of the bed.

“Bloody heavens!” he cursed.

“I did tell you!” Aziraphale declared. “The last time this happened I almost took out your eye!”

“Dammit!” Crowley sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, but immediately groaned and looked at his hand. “Ah, shit! There’s preening oil everywhere!”

“Please don't tell me it's on the bed.”

“Okay, I won’t!”

Aziraphale turned onto his side to see for himself but his left wing knocked Crowley in the face again and he landed on the floor.

“Oh! Darling, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

He lowered his wings and got to his knees to look over the side of the bed.

His naked husband was on his back. The bottle of oil was next to him and his short hair was slicked straight up where his oily fingers had been.

Crowley sighed as he looked up at him. “Little help?”

It took twenty minutes for them to be properly situated back on the bed without knocking anything over, particularly the demon who was getting grumpier every time he had to evade a barrage of feathers that kept coming at him. 

Crowley, now wearing a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, was straddling Aziraphale’s hips again and instructing him not to make any sudden movements.

“Angel, seriously, I’m barely touching you,” he said when Aziraphale’s right wing twitched again and nearly tipped over his bedside lamp. 

“You _know_ I’m ticklish, dear,” he muttered. 

“Well, stop being ticklish!”

“What a brilliant idea. I’ll get right on that, darling.”

Crowley sighed, not really caring for his sarcastic tone, but he guided Aziraphale’s right wing outward so that it was at its full length.

“Sorry,” his husband murmured into his pillow. 

Crowley tried not to grin, but he failed. “It really has been a while, hasn’t it?” He poured a tiny drop of oil into his palm and rubbed it generously over his hands and fingers.

“It _does_ feel a bit better,” Aziraphale admitted. “Stretching them like this.”

“I told you.”

“Yes, you did. I suppose you’re allowed to be _right_ every now and then.”

“Excuse me? I’m _what_?” 

Aziraphale glanced back at his husband with pursed lips. “You heard what I said.”

“Not quite, angel. I think I’ve got oil in my ear.”

“It’s in your hair, too, and you look ridiculous.”

He heard Crowley giggle as his lithe fingers carefully glided through his secondary feathers. “Oh, my,” he sighed. “Dearest, I forgot how good you are at this.”

“I better be; your wings are a right mess.”

A towel suddenly appeared next to him and Crowley smiled. “Thank you, angel,” he said as he threw it over his shoulder and hopped off the bed.

Aziraphale turned his head and watched him work as he gently massaged his coverts.

Before Heaven became a vast skyscraper with sharp edges, clear walls, and judging glances, preening had been quite common among angels. It was a bonding ritual, but Aziraphale stopped caring about the tradition. He hadn’t felt an attachment to the other angels in a long time.

This neglect of his wings went unnoticed by them and perhaps by God herself. 

But Crowley noticed.

It was in the book shop one night, and they had let their wings out to relax after a few glasses of red wine. When Crowley saw how disheveled Aziraphale’s wings were, with their primaries bent and tangled, he immediately sobered up and asked where the angel kept the preening oil.

Aziraphale told him not to bother, but after much berating, he directed him upstairs to his flat and told him to look in the lavatory.

He was soon kneeling on a cushion on the floor and leaning against the edge of the sofa and when Crowley was finished, he could smell the fresh, powdery scent of his newly groomed wings and he dozed.

When he awoke hours later, he was sober and found a note on the coffee table that read: “ _My turn next. Regards, AC_.”

Now, here they were, in the bedroom of their cottage, his husband gently combing his slender fingers through his feathers. Crowley wore a slight frown as he was immersed in his task, handling each feather as if it were a holy relic.

Aziraphale grinned. “Darling?”

Crowley glanced at him for just a moment. “Hmm?”

“I believe it’s your turn.”

He paused in his grooming and smirked. “What?”

“You preened me years ago. Now, it’s _your_ turn.”

Crowley smiled. “I’m a bit busy right now.”

“Well, after you’re done with me.”

“I’ll never be done with you.”

“You _know_ what I mean,” Aziraphale giggled.

He shut his eyes and relaxed under Crowley’s touch. 

He felt his primary feathers slip blissfully through his oiled fingers and sighed, “That’s lovely.”

“Good,” came Crowley’s low voice. “Just don’t panic when you look at the floor.”

Aziraphale’s eyes shot open. “Hm?”

He looked over the side of the bed and gasped at the pile of bent feathers. 

“Oh my goodness!”

“They were ready to come out. It’s not that bad,” Crowley assured him.

“Some angel I am. Can’t even take care of my own wings.”

Crowley combed through his primaries with his fingers once more and wiped the oil and down feathers from them with the towel.

“Okay, that one’s done,” he announced. “Sorry, it's not too fresh; I’m trying to conserve oil since most of it ended up on the floor.”

Aziraphale turned onto his side and examined his wing and smiled at how clean and healthy it looked.

“You have magic fingers,” he praised.

Crowley giggled. “I think that was said on our honeymoon, as well.”

“It’s very nice, love. Thank you.” 

Crowley moved to the other side of the bed. “Come on, angel.”

Aziraphale turned his head to him and slowly stretched out his left wing.

“Mmm,” he moaned as the muscles in his back relaxed. “That feels so good.”

Crowley applied more oil to his hands and started at the coverts.

“Dear?”

“Yes?”

Aziraphale rested his chin on his fist. “Do demons preen one another?”

Crowley’s hands stopped for a moment, slightly taken aback, but he cleared his throat and continued massaging.

“Not every demon has wings,” he said. “Only those angels that fell. And...well, even then, sometimes their wings drop off from lack of use.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Drop off?”

“Yeah, it’s like if you were to wrap a rubber band around your finger to cut off circulation. Well, that’s sort of what happens.”

“Good Lord.”

“They don’t drop off all at once.”

“Still, I just can’t imagine.”

“It’s a crowded place down there, angel. No room to spread your wings now and again. Eventually, the feathers get torn, the bones get brittle, and the muscles become atrophied and useless. Then, they fall off, piece by piece. The floors of Hell are layered with dead feathers.”

“But, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “your wings are immaculate.”

He grinned at his husband’s choice of words. “I was lucky enough to be tasked with remaining up here. Plenty of room above ground to stretch. Also, I take care of them. I happen to like my wings.”

“I always thought…” 

Aziraphale paused, unsure if he should finish.

“Thought what?” Crowley asked.

“Never mind, dear. I don’t want to spoil the mood.”

“Does it have to do with my Fall?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I...yes.”

“Ask away.”

Aziraphale watched him a moment and noticed that he kept his eyes on his work.

“Well...I always thought that, when an angel fell, then their wings were--”

“Destroyed?” Crowley interjected. “I thought that, as well, love. But, as you know...it’s not true.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s alright.”

There was a tense silence between them and he glanced at Aziraphale. He could sense that he regretted asking such a thing, but Crowley didn’t blame him. However, he knew the dangers of asking too many questions, and he was sure that, since the Rebellion, any angel would be careful with their curiosity.

He didn’t want _his_ angel to feel that way. They had been left alone for so long, with neither of their sides even attempting to contact or confront them again.

On the other hand, they weren’t exactly ‘out of the woods,’ were they? Ever since their long-awaited courtship and up to their eventual marriage, they still were cautious, avoiding any gesture or phrase that could trigger any kind of intervention.

There was one instance, however, when they were walking along the shore. It was a gorgeous afternoon and Crowley gathered his courage and took Aziraphale’s hand.

The angel instantly looked around. It was an old habit that had stemmed from their past meetings in St. James Park, but he did not let go of Crowley’s hand. Instead, he squeezed it, as if at any moment something would rip him from his side.

“Dear, what if we’re seen?” he had asked him.

“Let people see, angel,” Crowley replied, knowing what his husband _actually_ meant. “We’re just a retired married couple, in their golden years, holding hands on the beach. Pretty normal, eh?”

Aziraphale gave him a grin, but continued to squeeze his hand.

They continued their walk and after a few people had passed them, Aziraphale’s tight grip relaxed and Crowley could hear him breathe again.

The beach would be the only place they would ever hold hands when they weren’t relaxing at home. It quickly became one of their favorite pastimes. 

Crowley made his way to the primary feathers and caught his angel’s eyes once more and softly sang:

_“Only you can make this world seem right,_

_Only you can make the darkness bright…”_

“Oh, my love,” Aziraphale smiled sleepily.

_“Only you, and you alone, can thrill me like you do;_

_And fill my heart with love for only you.”_

“You old charmer.”

_“Only you can make all this change in me,_

_For it’s true: you are my destiny._

_When you hold my hand, I understand the magic that you do._

_You’re my dream come true, my one and only you.”_

Aziraphale’s eyes began to droop.

He soon fell sleep under his husband’s dulcet tones and gentle touch.

\-------------------

In the middle of the night, Aziraphale opened his eyes and found he was still on his stomach with his wings still manifested.

His right one was folded onto his back, but his left one was stretched out and resting on the mattress.

He shifted onto his elbows and rubbed his face as he yawned. 

“Crowley?” he whispered. 

Something rustled next to him and he realized that a long, scaly body was draped over his legs.

He grinned as he lifted his wing to find a black python with a red belly and golden eyes.

“Comfy?”

The snake winked and slithered closer to him.

Aziraphale put away his wings as Crowley curled himself tighter around his legs. He twitched when the blanket was lifted and cold air shocked him.

“Just a moment, dear,” Aziraphale said as he summoned the quilt from the foot of the bed to cover them.

He turned onto his side and stroked the top of Crowley’s head.

“It’s _your_ turn next time, my darling.”

Crowley slowly shook his head.

“Yes, I insist,” he told him, shaking a finger at him. “You said yourself that you spoil me. I’d like to return the favor.”

He giggled when Crowley gave him a short hiss and he stroked his chin.

“My back feels so much better.”

Crowley’s tongue flicked against the tip of his nose.

“Yes, yes. I’ll say it again: you were right.

Crowley slithered over him and rested his head in the crook of his neck.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his body, pressing him close to his chest to keep him warm. “You know, dear? I’m glad you took care of your wings. I happen to like them, too.”

Crowley sighed and nuzzled his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Crowley sings is called "Only You (And You Alone)" by The Platters, recorded in 1955.


End file.
